'I make sure I get on with him.' Illustration: Lo Cole for the Guardian

We were at my daughter's for lunch one Sunday when suddenly there was a loud bang and the lights went out. I watched as my son-in-law remained in his seat, chatting away, blissfully uninterested in the problem. He sat there letting my daughter, who'd been cooking all day, struggle up a stepladder to turn the trip switch back on.

Later, when she and I had sorted the problem (a faulty appliance), we all laughed at her husband's lack of DIY knowledge. To an outsider, it looked like normal happy family banter, but really I was furious. Somehow I can't help feeling disappointed in her choice of partner, even though I hide it pretty well.

I make sure I get on with him, and that I never say what I really feel, particularly in front of my daughter – she's very loyal to him, which I admire. Yet I feel rage when I see him reading the papers and leaving her to do pretty much everything: run the house, hold down a full-time job, do the DIY, pay the bills.

I treasure my grandson and our time together, but I worry that his father hasn't taken the time to bond fully with him. In my darkest moments I think he doesn't deserve the wonderful family he's got. Yet my daughter rarely complains, and tempted as I am to comment, I know I would only alienate her. My wife died several years ago and my daughter is all I've got left. However angry I feel, I can't afford to tell her what I'm really thinking. So I keep my mouth shut and my enemy close.